


Three's Company

by Davechicken



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breakfast can wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekingsparty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingsparty/gifts).



Chris stirred oh-so-slowly. His Hunter's instincts kicked in first, checking for any threats, but he couldn't sense any so he let himself relax. Blue eyes opened gradually, letting the warming light in. It was late morning, or late by his standards, and his stomach made it known that it would want feeding in the not-too-distant future.

Later, he told it. Later.

Right now he had better things to occupy himself with. Things like the two warm bodies he was sandwiched between. Derek was pressed up behind him, all lean muscle and fuzz. He was a solid, reassuring figure and he felt utterly safe with his hot breath on the nape of his neck. Some part of him said he shouldn't, even if he wasn't an Argent by birth. Derek was an apex predator, a killer and a force of nature. That part was subsumed by the bits that remembered the way Derek would look _oh so cutely smug_ when he opened up a stiff jar for him, or remembered how he would not **ever** almost-cry at painful parts of movies (the proud line of his jaw, the soft creases around his eyes), or remembered the way his face would just threaten to melt when Chris straddled him just to kiss him. Derek might be an apex predator, but he was also very squishy deep underneath. Once you ignored the bristling, barking, prickly self-protective layer... he was really kind of adorable.

Then there was the third man in the bed. 

Chris had admired him from afar in a very academic sort of a way. He'd known he appreciated guys for quite some time, but it hadn't been until he'd let himself be seduced by a sourwolf that he really let that inner voice squeak quietly about guys he found attractive. And then he'd been dating Derek, so all other males were just eyecandy. He wasn't the kind to play the field: if he was with them, he was _with_ them. (And occasionally admiring other people from way, way afar.)

Of course, Derek had to go and do something insane and weird and downright wonderful like _bring the object of Chris' crush home to bed_ one day. Without discussion, too. He'd given him the opportunity, but made it clear it was just an opportunity, nothing more. He'd seen Chris lusting after the other man and – instead of harbouring jealousy and resentment – brought him home to play. Which kind of made him the best boyfriend ever. 

The other man had slotted into their bed and lovemaking like he was made to, and Chris couldn't be happier. Sure, there were tiny moments of jealousy, but those were sure over-written by times like this. Times where he had one lover draped over his back, the other doing something like a modified recovery position with his back to him. Chris had one arm slung over his waist, knees bent up into the space behind his. John Stilinski snored very, very subtly and slept like nothing was wrong in the world. Chris grinned, wriggling his butt back against Derek. He could still feel the stubble-burn between his thighs, feel the dull ache of being well-loved from the night before. Not that he'd complain in the _slightest_. Two lovers meant twice the fun.

"Asshole," Derek rumbled against his ear, turning to nip at it in mild rebuke. 

"You know you love it," Chris smirked, feeling the tell-tale press behind him that said Derek definitely had morning wood. 

"How did you know I was awake?"

"You breathe more evenly when you're awake." 

Derek huffed at that, then resumed his duty of kissing Chris' skin wherever he could reach. Chris didn't know if that was a werewolf marking thing, or just a kissing thing. He knew he reeked of _both_ of them, most days, though. That kind of made his stomach knot proudly: anyone who could _smell_ would be able to tell Chris had two of the most impressive male specimens in town all for himself. (Because they were _his_ , no matter what Derek might think.)

John snored by obliviously, his face hidden, but no doubt doing that cute, slack, open thing he did. He had such an expressive face in the exact opposite way to Derek. John had never been one for hiding things, or putting up a false face to the world. His heart was always on his sleeve, his affections open and honest. Chris liked that about him, liked how ready he was to care. He was also _far_ too sexually progressive for his own good. Between them both, Chris was never left wanting for something new to try.

"Don't wake him," Chris asked. "Not yet."

"Why?"

"He needs his sleep," Chris lied. Well. Sort of. He also had some plans of his own, after all. "But I don't."

"Is that your idea of a proposition?"

Chris shoved his ass back more firmly, trying to make it clear _what_ his proposition was. (Hint: him.) Derek whuffed a laugh, then rolled away momentarily. Chris had turned to glare when he saw that Derek was just fetching the lube bottle from where they'd left it last night, and then he decided that was okay, after all. He was probably still split open from last night (and how **easy** it was to take them both in at once was terrifying some days), but lube certainly made it feel much, much better. He groaned as he felt a slick cockhead rubbed between his legs, and apparently Derek thought the same. Chris lifted one knee to make it easier, arching his back as Derek started to gently-gently-gently slide in. 

Derek was a big boy. Chris had been a little apprehensive the first few times anyway, but after he'd taken him **plus** John, he'd realised his body was just a slut for dick anyway, so that was fine. He pushed in gradually, inch by inch. Chris closed his eyes around a murmur of encouragement, rocking with the gentle coupling, moving until Derek was seated all the way inside. It never got old, that feeling. The tingling, stretching goodness; the full, fat completion. Like a stomach hungry for a good meal, it made him feel warmly content. Derek's hand on his hip, more kisses all over his nape and he almost-giggled when he tickled him just a bit.

"Okay, baby?"

Derek had also become more liberal with the terms of affection recently. He didn't know if that was a side-effect from some underlying jealousy, or if it was just a sign that he was relaxing more around him. He hoped it was the latter, because he'd hate to give up this living arrangement. He would, though. He'd be a one-cock-man if it meant keeping Derek. He just... would prefer to be a two-cock-man. 

"Feels good," he said, and turned to peer at him, smiling widely. "You feel good." Love you.

His werewolf seemed to get what he meant, and they started to slowly kiss. Tongues that tangled, lips that stroked, and a careful, soft roll of their hips together. Not enough to drive him mad, just enough to keep him on the edge of good. They'd gotten really quite skilled at that: the slow, love-making amidst all the frenetic fucking. Chris sighed happily, and when the kiss broke he bumped his nose to Derek's.

"Lube, please?"

Derek held the bottle out, but he squirted it onto Chris' palm instead of give it to him. Chris appreciated that, and then he rubbed some of the liquid over Derek's middle finger, too. They both reached around and between the sleeping man's legs. He didn't respond immediately when they started to tease between his thighs, but then he was riding their fingers sleepily. His legs parted happily, and John moaned as Derek and Chris both slipped a finger into him at once.

"Morning, sleepy," Chris said.

"...already?"

Derek did laugh then, and as it was harder for him to reach, he pulled his finger out to let Chris do the rest of the work. 

"Not... complain-AINing about the alarm clock, though." 

No, who would? Chris quickly slipped three fingers in, when Derek's withdrew. John was so relaxed it was easy to do, and easier still to pull them out and hold his cock still. John knew to rut back on it, to move until it slid into him. The Sheriff moaned in noisy satisfaction, and Chris was in heaven. His cock pressed balls-deep into one lover, the other filling him so wonderfully. Maybe he _was_ being greedy right now, but it was just how they'd woken up. And no one seemed to be upset by the situation, so...

Getting a rhythm going was a bit messy to begin with. What with how they were all lying on their sides, and eye-contact between all three was a bit difficult. For a little while they were just a wriggling pile of limbs, but then... oh then! Something snapped into place and it was just like them: _moving_ and breathing and sighing and Chris thought his chest might explode from how good it felt. Derek's hands pressing white marks into his thigh as he moved harder, faster. John's hand reaching back to curl around the nape of his neck. He curled his hand around the older man's cock, stroking it in sync with their clumsy-good fucking, loving the loud moans it got him. He was pretty sure he and Derek were just as loud, and then John was coming.

No warning, just a sudden **loud** cry and a tensing around his cock, his internal walls working over his shaft. He stroked faster, trying to hammer against his prostate even as he yanked out every last drop from him. The tang of fresh ejaculate hit the air, and that was like catnip to Derek. All of a sudden his movements got erratic and fierce, and then Chris wasn't even sure if his own hand was still moving or not because his wolf was fucking him brutally hard. He called out a name – two – and then he was spilling deep inside of John. He felt like his balls were all but exploded and raw when he was done, and he held on to the other man for dear life.

"Yes, oh yes," he whispered, his words rough and shaky. He burrowed his face into the back of John's neck, feeling the way Derek's movements got more sporadic and clumsy. It wouldn't be long, and... "Come for me, baby. Come for me."

Chris felt John reach back, over his hip, fingers glancing over Derek to reassure and encourage him. That tiny touch flipped him over the edge and – with a low, keening whine – there was a sudden flood of heat in his hole, filling him further. He wasn't sure how all his come _fit_ , but it did. It bathed his insides with as much of a claim as he'd just staked on John, and Chris felt... happy.

Oh so very happy.

Derek slumped, and then they were just cuddling again. Still buried in and around one another, he purred in contentment.

"That's never going to get old," he said, feeling utterly, utterly smug. And loved. 

"Better not do," Derek replied. "Three is about as many as this bed will hold."

Chris couldn't help the sharp bark of amusement. Nope. Three was definitely the best number.


End file.
